Until Tomorrow
by whatdoyouwantacupcake
Summary: To change the world, one must pay a price. Roy Mustang, who dreams of become a soldier, does not fear for his life. He only wants to do right by his country and Riza Hawkeye, the quiet girl whose trust and friendship he is determined to earn.
1. Chapter 1: The Alchemist's Daughter

A/N: I own nothing and would like to thank Ria for being my beta.

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Chapter 1: The Alchemist's Daughter

As he stepped off the train into the warm late afternoon air, Roy Mustang pulled a slip of paper from his pocket, but did not bother to look at it; he knew the name and the address meant nothing to him. Instead, he glanced around to see if someone could point him in the right direction, but the platform was empty. It occurred to him that this was the type of quiet village where nothing happened, despite the insistence of the novels he had read that these places were the most interesting; it seemed the perfect place for an alchemist to do his research in peace.

After spending what he could remember of his life and Central, he felt completely out of place here. Even East City, quiet though it had been when he switched trains, seemed far more like home. Slipping the paper back into his pocket, he began to make his way toward the town square. "Excuse me," said a quiet voice. "Are you Mr. Mustang?"

Surprised, he turned to see a girl standing beside him, carrying a large sack with a few carrots protruding from the top. "Yes, I am. Who are you?"

She shifted her weight nervously and clutched the groceries tighter to her chest. "My father sent me. He said you'd need someone to show you to the house."

"I didn't know Master Hawkeye had a daughter," he said, looking at her curiously. From what he had heard—and that wasn't much, as was evident from the girl standing in front of him—Hawkeye had little interest in anything beyond his research. It was odd to think of such a man having a family. "What's your name?"

"Riza. I'm Riza."

"Nice to meet you, Riza," he replied with a smile. "I'm Roy—but you already knew that, I'm sure. I'd shake your hand but I can see they're both full at the moment…Would you like me to carry that for you?"

She blinked at him, and surprise flashed across her face for a moment before it resumed its neutral expression. "It's no trouble. I can see you've got your hands full as well."

"Just the one and this isn't heavy." He lifted his suitcase to his shoulder, and let go with all but one of his fingers.

She ignored him, moving the bag so it rested against her hip. With one hand now free, she offered it to him and he shook it. "Like I said, Mr. Mustang: it's no trouble at all."

Taking hold of his suitcase again, he let his arm fall to his side. "I told you—it's Roy."

"I'm not sure my father would approve. It's not polite to address an older guest by his first name," Riza hugged the bag to her chest once more.

Roy raised an eyebrow. "You can't be that much younger than me, can you?"

"I'll be fourteen in September," she explained.

"Not quite four years, then. It's a bigger gap than I thought, though still not enough to warrant a last-name basis. But if it makes you more comfortable…"

"It does."

"I apologize for being so forward, Miss Hawkeye. I didn't expect to meet someone so close to my own age and I forgot my manners." He bowed and she narrowed her eyes. "I'm not going to try to kiss your hand, if that's what you're worried about."

Rolling her eyes slightly, she started to walk away from him. "It's a little outside of town. I hope you don't mind."

Did he seem like some rich city boy who couldn't be bothered to walk? Somewhat miffed, he followed her along the hard-packed dirt of what seemed to be the village's main road. As they approached the square, it grew more crowded, much more appropriate for a sunny Saturday afternoon than the deserted station had been. However, every person they passed seemed to be in a hurry; not even one stopped to say hello.

"Strange town," Roy noted, turning to Riza as they left the village behind. "I would have thought everyone knew each other in a place like this."

"They do," she replied, her eyes on the distant trees as the road grew steeper.

Roy wondered how she could focus on something so far away without stumbling. Now that they had left the town behind, the road was littered with loose stones and softer dirt. "Are they wary of strangers, then?"

"What did you expect?" Riza asked, the corners of her lips twitching. "A festival in your honor?"

Somewhat taken aback by her response, Roy stopped to stare at her. "You know, for someone who insists on a last-name basis, you're rather forward yourself."

"Ask a forward question…" She had stopped as well and turned to face him, the slope of the road bringing her closer to his height.

Roy chucked. "I suppose that's fair. I didn't know my question would upset you. I had just wondered why no one said hello to you. I figured they must not like strangers."

"They don't." She tensed slightly as she spoke, her hands digging into the sides of the sack.

Noting her tone, Roy froze. He opened his mouth to speak, but he wasn't sure what to say. She had already turned and continued walking, this time at a much quicker pace. He wanted to apologize, and he had at least thirty questions forming at the back of his mind, but he had a feeling that any attempts at picking up the conversation would be ignored. He was a stranger, after all, and he had no right to pry into her life, no matter how curious he was about his new Master.

Not bothering to catch up to her, he simply looked out at the countryside as he matched her pace. The road had leveled out and one side was lined with trees. On the other, he could see mountains in the distance, beyond a large meadow of tall grass and even more trees. It was beautiful, he thought, but in a lonely sort of way. The road curved and he saw a house not too far ahead, surrounded by a tall, wrought-iron fence that attempted to separate the overgrown yard from the surrounding field and the woods not far beyond. From what he could see of the house, it hardly seemed in better repair than the yard. A small path branched toward it and Riza followed it, her pace slackening as she approached the gate. She shifted her sack but Roy stepped forward to open it. "Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome." He closed the gate behind them. "Would you like me to hold that while you get the key?"

She shook her head. "I left it unlocked. Very few people come out this way, and none of them come near the house."

When they reached the front door, Roy opened it and followed Riza inside, bending over to remove his shoes before he even closed the door. "You don't have to do that," Riza told him. "Father isn't that fussed about the floors, and I didn't have time to mop before I came to get you."

"Sorry."

"It's fine. I'll put this in the kitchen and then I'll show you to your room." She went through an open door at the end of the hall beside the stairwell, and feeling somewhat uncomfortable at the thought of being left in the entryway by himself, Roy followed her. He stopped outside the door; she had set the sack on the counter and started emptying it. "You can come in, if you'd like. I won't be long." He stepped into the doorway but hesitated to come closer. She removed the last of her purchases, then folded the sack and stooped to put it in the cupboard. "If you get hungry between meals, the pantry is there—" she gestured toward a door to his left "—and you can eat in here or in the dining room. If you need anything, call for me." She stood and closed the cupboard.

Roy stepped out of the doorway as Riza turned around. "Should I help pay for groceries, or was that included in the fee?"

"I believe it was included, but you should probably ask my Father; and if you prefer to buy your own food, you're welcome to," she told him, and as he looked around at the peeling wallpaper, he made a mental note to pay for as much as he could afford. "I'll show you to your room now." She twisted one hand nervously around her wrist as she walked toward him. He followed her back into the hall and up the stairs.

"The bathroom is there," she said, pointing at a door that stood slightly ajar. "I've hung a towel for you already. The pink one. I hope you don't mind; it was the nicest I could find."

"Thank you."

"You may put your things on the shelf above the sink if you wish. Or you can keep them in your room, if you prefer." She stopped in front of the only fully-open door in the hall and gestured for Roy to enter. "I left the window open because it was a bit musty earlier. It's been a while since Father's had an apprentice. He tends to chase them off and word gets around…"

"Should I be worried?"

She looked at him appraisingly for a moment. "I think you should be clever enough to keep up with him. And you don't…" she trailed off and he turned to see a faint flush creeping into her cheeks.

"I don't what?"

"You don't…scare me…the way the last one did," she muttered, grinding the heel of one foot into the toes of the other.

"He didn't hurt you, did he?" Roy asked, suddenly worried.

"No. I avoided him. He just seemed…cruel. Like he wanted to learn alchemy so he could hurt people…to burn them if they got in his way." She ran her fingers through her hair nervously, as though the fear of the memory was still fresh in her mind, her hand coming to rest at the nape of her neck.

Roy set his suitcase down and hesitated before saying, "I would never do that. Believe me. I understand if you don't right now, though." His eyes widened. "Oh, god! You had to walk all the way home with me and we'd only just met! I'm so sorry. I hope I didn't scare you too badly."

"You don't scare me. I already told you that."

"What would you have done if I had?"

She swallowed hard. "Given you directions and told you to go on ahead while I finished my errands."

"Good." She seemed so small. Not delicate, though. Just untrained, and part of him wanted to teach her how to defend herself, but he assumed that offering would be too forward.

She looked down at the floor. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Mr. Mustang, I have to make dinner." She turned to leave.

"Would you like some help?" he offered, taking a step toward her.

Surprised, she stopped. "What?"

"I have to earn my keep somehow," he joked. "Besides, I helped my aunt with it more than a few times and it's not like I've got anything better to do."

"You should unpack. You're a guest here. There's no need for—"

"But I'm not a guest," he countered, immediately feeling bad for cutting her off. "I'm an apprentice and my duty is to my master and his family. You shouldn't have to make dinner all by yourself."

"I'm used to it."

"At least let me keep you company."

She looked at him over her shoulder. "Maybe some other time. Tonight, I'm making a meal to welcome a guest and I want him to be surprised. I'll come for you when it's done." Pulling the door closed behind her, she left the room.

Roy turned and went to his case, thinking that Riza Hawkeye was too stubborn for her own good. Or perhaps, he realized, just stubborn enough to keep herself safe. He knew his place better than to ask Master Hawkeye how he could allow so many strange men to parade through and stay in the house with his younger daughter. Making a mental note to teach his future wife and daughters as much about alchemy as he could—hopefully more than enough to defend themselves—he picked up the case and carried it to the bed.

As he unpacked, he wondered if maybe Riza knew more about alchemy than she let on. He hoped she did, especially if her father's next apprentice was less than honorable. Then again, if he made a good enough impression on the Master, it was likely there wouldn't be a next apprentice for quite some time. Roy strode to the window and rested his arms on the sill. There wasn't much to see: just more of the same woods he had seen from the road and a modest-sized backyard that was as overgrown as the front. The warm afternoon breeze ruffled his hair as he leaned farther out the window. Judging by the sun, it was nearly five and he decided to freshen up before dinner.

Leaving the window open, he returned to the open suitcase and removed a clean shirt and his toiletries before leaving the room. When he opened the door, the faint scent of sautéing onions greeted him and he realized he hadn't eaten since he had left Central that morning. In the bathroom, he placed his things on the shelf Riza had mentioned.

He washed his face and dried it on the pale pink towel that was nowhere near as threadbare as the brown one that hung beside it. He saw only one toothbrush in the mug at the far end of the shelf. The bristles stuck out in every direction and the handle was cracked. He assumed it was Riza's and that the ragged towel was hers as well. He supposed by now she was used to sharing the bathroom with strange boys and men, but he couldn't help but feel guilty; she seemed so reserved that even looking at her toothbrush felt like an invasion of her privacy.

What on earth was he thinking about? Tired. He was tired. Between the train ride and the heat and the long walk from the station, he wanted nothing more than to fall asleep. He brushed his teeth lethargically, watching his reflection as his mind wandered back to Central. Saturday afternoons were his favorite. The madam had always insisted he was in his room by six, but before then, he kept busy: making certain that the bar and the dishes were clean, often running errands for the Madam and the girls, preparing a dinner that everyone could eat quickly before they opened for the evening.

For the first time since he had left, Roy felt a twinge of homesickness. The woods were nice, but he missed the noise of the city. And the house felt so empty with just three people. He wished Riza had let him keep her company; he wasn't used to being this lonely. Even when he went upstairs for the night at home, the noise from the city and the bar had provided company. At least from here, he could hear the faint sounds of Riza cooking below, but they were practically silence compared to the boisterous conversations and clinking of glasses that he was used to.

He changed his shirt and returned to his room, leaving the door open so he could smell whatever it was Riza was making, even though it made his stomach growl. Only a few things remained to be unpacked and he noticed and envelope sticking out from the pocket of one of the shirts. He removed it, curious. The only writing on it was the Madam's: "Little Roy." Carefully, he unsealed it and removed a photograph, "Mustang family, April 1886" written on the back. He turned it around and immediately recognized it from the photo album in the Madam's room. He had forgotten about it, not having had much inclination to look at it in recent years. But Christmas must have remembered all the hours he had spent in childhood looking at it as though his gaze could bring his parents back, if only for an hour.

Smiling slightly, he tucked it into the drawer of the nightstand and retrieved the envelope. He reached inside but it was empty now: Christmas must not have thought a note would be necessary.

The breeze gathered strength, ruffling Roy's hair again even though he was nowhere near the window. Folding the envelope, he got to his feet. The summer air had diminished the already faint scent of dinner and he crossed the room to lean against the sill once more. He closed his eyed and tilted his head toward the sun, enjoying the heat against his face. _Soon_, he thought—soon, he might be able to feel the heat of his own fire. A smile spread across his face: after all these years, he would finally be learning alchemy. He opened his eyes and looked out over the trees, letting his excitement and the fresh summer air carry his homesickness away.


	2. Chapter 2: Master and Apprentice

Chapter 2: Master and Apprentice

A knock snapped Roy from his thoughts. He turned to see Riza standing in the doorway, eyes on her shoes. "Dinner's ready," she informed him softly.

He made his way toward her. "It smells great."

"My father will be joining us. You might want to make yourself more, um, presentable?" she suggested, looking him over as she rocked back onto her heels.

Roy ran a hand over his hair to find that it stuck up in several places. "That bad, huh? Go on ahead. I'll get my comb." He started toward the dresser to look for it.

"Father doesn't like to be kept waiting. Besides," she added hesitantly, "it looks better now."

He turned and followed Riza into the hall, supposing that rumpled hair was a fairly easy flaw to overlook. Even so, as they walked, he combed his fingers through his dark locks until he was certain it wasn't humanly possible to smooth them further without a comb. He noticed that Riza's gait was stiffer than it had been earlier and he had opened his mouth halfway to ask if she was all right before deciding against it. She would just accuse him of being forward again. Still, he couldn't help but worry as he realized her hands were trembling as well. Was her father the cause of this? Or was he? She had said she wasn't afraid of him, but he wouldn't blame her if she had changed her mind as night approached, carrying the threat of a strange boy across the hall as she slept—assuming, of course, that she would be able to. Suppressing the guilt that had begun to seep into him, he followed her into the dining room.

The walls were as bare and faded as those of the other rooms he had seen and the curtains were drawn to block out the fading sunlight. Mismatched candles stood on the table, illuminating the serious face of the man who sat at the head of the table, looking intently at his empty plate. He looked up. "Roy Mustang."

"Yes, Master?" Roy tugged at his collar, wishing he could open the window. Between the candles and the food and the long summer day, the room was unbearably stuffy.

"Have a seat." Hawkeye gestured to an empty chair and Roy took it. "You too, Riza."

She bowed her head slightly and sat across from Roy. "I'm sorry it's not much. I would have made a pie, but the apples aren't ripe yet."

"It's for the best," Master Hawkeye said. "You'd only have burned it anyway."

Riza nearly dropped the serving platter but Roy reached across the table to steady it. She let go and he filled his plate before passing it to Hawkeye, who took only a small portion before returning it to Riza, who had managed to steady herself somewhat. She met his eyes and he looked away quickly, mentally kicking himself for staring. His stomach growled as he looked down at his plate. Forgetting for a moment where he was, he began shoveling it into his mouth, not caring how hot it was. Once he had swallowed, he looked up to find both father and daughter staring at him. "Sorry," he said, wiping his mouth on a napkin. "I haven't eaten all day, and this is delicious."

"I think you're just hungry, Mr. Mustang," Riza replied, though she looked rather pleased.

"If a man compliments you, Riza," said Master Hawkeye, reaching for a bottle of wine, "it's best to accept it graciously."

"Yes, Father." She looked down and stabbed half-heartedly at an onion.

Roy continued eating, somewhat less enthusiastic than before. He could feel Master Hawkeye watching him the entire time and said nothing until his plate was clear.

"Would you like more, Mr. Mustang?" Riza offered, nudging the serving platter toward him.

"Yes, please." He filled his plate and watched as Riza did the same. Hawkeye poured himself another glass of wine, the corners of his mouth twitching. Somewhat uneasy, Roy cleared his plate more slowly than before, then set his fork aside, resting his chin on his hands as he waited for Hawkeye to speak. The man had nearly emptied the bottle, and he set the glass aside in favor of finishing the wine directly. Riza helped herself to thirds, scraping the serving platter clean.

"I expect you in my study at six thirty tomorrow morning," said Hawkeye, setting aside the empty bottle. "Riza will show you where it is."

She nodded and stood, stacking her plate on her father's. Eager to help, Roy set his own on the serving platter and began gathering silverware. "I can do that," Riza mumbled.

"I don't mind. I'd feel awful just sitting here while you do all the work." Roy stacked his glass on the plate stood to reach for hers.

"You're a guest. There's no need for—"

"Oh, let him help, Riza. If the boy wants to make himself useful, I've no complaints," Hawkeye said.

"Yes, Father." Riza took his glass and headed for the kitchen with Roy trailing behind her, the glasses he had collected wobbling precariously. Neither spoke as they deposited the dishes in the sink, and Roy began to wish he had simply thanked her and returned to his room. "Are you all right, Mr. Mustang?" she asked and he looked up to see that she was holding up a towel. "I asked if you would dry."

"Right. Sorry. Thank you." He accepted the towel and watched as she turned on the faucet.

She paused and looked up from the plate she was scrubbing. "'Thank you'?"

"For dinner," he explained, twisting the corner of the towel between two fingers. "It was great."

"You're welcome." Her voice was flat, but as she turned to hand Roy a freshly washed plate, he noticed that she was smiling.

Once the sink was empty and all the dishes put away, Riza wiped her hands on her apron and untied it. "Thanks for helping me. No one's ever offered before."

Roy looked down, running a hand over his hair. "You're welcome," he said, yawning. "I should probably get some sleep. Looks like I'm going to have an early morning."

"Would you like a glass of water?"

"Yes, please." He watched as she retrieved a glass from the cupboard and filled it. Taking it from her, her thanked her and bade her goodnight. He left the kitchen and a tired-looking Riza behind, growing more exhausted with each step until he reached his bed and flopped onto it, still fully dressed. He closed his eyes and reached for the nightstand, not caring that he was still wearing shoes. Something brushed his nose and he flicked it away, trying not to sneeze. _The window._ He had left the window open, and after the sun had set, the lamp must have attracted moths. Groaning, he dragged himself out of bed and went to the window to close it just as several more moths flew in. He changed into his pajamas, flicked off the lamp, and lay down again, resigning himself to a long night.

Roy opened his eyes slowly. The Madam never woke him this early on a Sunday; she was often just getting to bed herself as the sun rose. The knocking grew even more frantic. "Please get up, Mr. Mustang." Of course. He wasn't home and Riza was supposed to take him to her father's study.

"I'm up," he muttered shoving back the covers and turning on the lamp.

She must not have heard him because she knocked again. "Mr. Mustang?"

"I'm up!" he repeated, more forcefully than he had intended. "Sorry. You can come in." He sat up and hung his legs over the side of the bed.

The door swung open and Riza stepped in, carrying a tray. "I was starting to worry I'd have to pour water on you."

Roy glanced at the glass on the nightstand; two moths floated on the surface of the water. "I'm glad you didn't. Just shake me if I don't wake up in the future." He rubbed his eyes and looked up at her.

She bit her lip and looked down, shifting nervously. The tea cup wobbled and Roy braced himself to jump for it. "My father told me not to do that."

"Good advice," he conceded, yawning. "Hopefully I can wake myself until you trust me."

Riza moved toward him hesitantly and held out the tray. "I'm sorry there's no meat."

"An omelet doesn't need meat to be good," he said, taking it from her and propping himself against the headboard. "Thanks, Riza."

"You're welcome." She wrung her hands, eyes on the floor as she turned to leave. "If you need me, I'll be in my room."

"Hey, wait! Have you eaten yet?"

"Of course. I had some toast while I made your breakfast," she replied, heading for the door. "I'll be back in twenty minutes to take you to Father's study."

Roy watched Riza pull the door closed behind her, wishing he had had the forethought to take a shower the night before. Between the train, the dusty walk to the house from the station, and his restless night, he wasn't in much of a condition to make a good second impression, and he had a feeling that he could have handled dinner better.

With a sigh, he ran a hand over his hair, pausing when he felt something caught in his bangs. Once he had combed it free with his fingers, he caught it in his palm to examine it. Apparently one of the moths had decided to attack him rather than his water, and he was relieved that Riza had seemed more interested in her shoes than she had in him while she had been in the room.

Setting the moth on the tray, he finished eating. Riza may not have been the best conversationalist, but she was a good cook, and the tea wasn't half-bad either, although he thought it could have used a bit of milk. He glanced at the clock; he still had about five minutes before Riza returned so he set the tray aside to search for his comb. He found it and changed out of his pajamas; it took three tries to button his shirt correctly and he slumped against the window sleepily, no longer interested in fixing his hair. For all he cared, there could be a dozen moths in there.

The sun rose above the trees as Riza knocked on the door. "I'm coming!" he said, heading toward the door. Opening it, he remembered the tray was still on the bed. "I forgot—"

She looked past him to see the tray. "Never mind that. Follow me." She walked down the hallway to the stairs and Roy noticed a set that led up, wondering how he had missed them the night before. He followed Riza to the top and she knocked twice before saying, "I've brought your apprentice."

"Bring him in," Hawkeye ordered and Riza opened the door, motioning for Roy to enter. He looked around the room, impressed. Every wall was lined with book from floor to ceiling except in front of the windows, which had cupboards beneath them. In the middle of the room stood a long table, surrounded by a few mismatched chairs at regular intervals. Master Hawkeye sat in one, hunched over a book that lay open on the table. "You're early," he said without looking up.

"I'm sorr—"

"Better early than late," he said, turning from Roy to address his daughter. "Leave us."

"Yes, Father." She gave an odd sort of half-curtsy and pulled the door closed behind her.

"Sit down." Hawkeye gestured to the chair across from him. "I hope my daughter brought you something to eat."

"She made me an omelet," Roy said, forcing himself to sit straight.

"You must have made an impression on her," the master observed. "She usually just makes toast."

Roy looked down. "I'm sorry, sir. I was just trying to be friendly, but I suppose I can find friends in the village."

Shaking his head, Hawkeye returned his attention to the book. "What are you apologizing for? The girl could use a friend. Why do you think I chose you over someone older, someone with more money?"

"I was hoping it was because you thought I'd make a good apprentice," Roy said sheepishly.

"That's part of it obviously, but sometimes I worry about that child. You should ask her to take you hunting with her this afternoon." He took a piece of chalk from his pocket and tossed it at Roy. "Enough about that. Draw a circle."

Roy took the chalk and looked at it uncertainly. "Just on the table?"

"It's only chalk. You can draw, can't you?"

"Not really, sir," the boy admitted, carefully outlining a rather pathetic oval on the table.

"Well, you're about to get very good at circles." Looking up from his book, Hawkeye scowled. "Have you ever seen a circle, boy?"

"I said I wasn't good at drawing," muttered Roy, rolling the chalk between his fingers.

"Try again, then." 

"Roy brushed the chalk away and drew another oval, pleased that it was, at least, less wobbly than the first.

"Again."

Several hours passed before Hawkeye was satisfied with the circles. Relieved, Roy set aside the stump of the third piece of chalk and flexed his hand, wondering if Riza would pop in with water. The dust made his throat itch and he had already coughed it raw, not to mention the fact that it was nearly nine o'clock. The summer heat would be nearly unbearable in the room by the afternoon and he wondered if he would be allowed to open a window.

"Now the left." Hawkeye resumed his reading.

"Sir?"

"Practice with your left hand. It's important that an alchemist be able to transmute even if his dominant hand is injured." He pulled another piece of chalk from his pocket and rolled it across the table.

Roy picked it up with his left hand, unsure of how to hold it. He shifted it around a few times before attempting to draw. This time, the chalk squeaked across the table and he gritted his teeth, hoping that, by some miracle, his efforts would result in a perfect circle."

"What the hell is that?"

Looking at the table, Roy bit his lip. "It's—er—almost an oval?"

"Again," Hawkeye commanded, waving his hand.

"Yes, sir."

By noon, Roy could hardly breathe for all the chalk in the air and his hands ached. Hawkeye had approved his left-handed circles barely ten minutes before, and then told him to alternate hands. While not as awful as they had been at the beginning, his circles seemed to be getting worse each time as his hands had tensed and refused to loosen. He was half-resigned to spending the rest of his life making increasingly sloppy circles on the table in this room that was even hotter than he had guessed it would be. Wiping sweat from his forehead, he picked up the chalk with his right hand. He had just started another circle when Riza entered, carrying a tray.

Hawkeye looked up. "Put it on the table."

She did so and stood with her hands behind her back, watching him.

"Cucumber?" he asked, taking a sandwich.

"It's all we had. I'm going hunting today, though. I finished all of my chores."

Roy tried to catch her eye but she didn't seem to notice; her gaze was on her father who said, "You're dismissed." He took a sandwich and bit into it.

Roy reached for the plate but Riza shook her head. "Your lunch is downstairs."

Hawkeye brushed crumbs from his book. "I'll see you at the same time tomorrow morning, Roy."

"Yes, Master." He followed Riza out the door and down the stairs and once they reached the landing, he realized he was still holding the chalk. "Should I take this back?"

She shook her head. "He'll expect you to practice."

Roy coughed into his arm. "Great," he wheezed.

"Are you all right?" Riza's eyes were wide.

"I'm—" he coughed again "—fine, thanks." His voice was nearly an octave too high and he leaned against the wall to cough again. "I think I breathed a little too much chalk. That's all."

"I'll get you some water." She scampered down the stairs to the main floor and Roy followed her, still coughing too hard to thank her.

In the kitchen, Riza filled a glass at the sink and handed it to him. He downed it quickly. "That's better. Thanks." Riza held out her hand as he wiped his mouth and he returned the glass so she could fill it again. This time, he drank only a bit and cleared his throat. "Can I go with you?"

"What?"

"Hunting. You said you were going and your father said I should go with you."

She sighed. "I don't know you very well."

"You said you trusted me last night."

"I don't recall saying that I wanted you traipsing through the woods with me." She untied her apron and threw it on the counter.

Roy opened his mouth to say something about her carrying a gun and decided against it. If she didn't want him to come along, then he had no right to force the issue. For now, he would do what he could to convince her that he meant no harm; after all, if her father was right, no one needed a friend more than Riza Hawkeye.


	3. Chapter 3: Raspberries

Chapter 3: Raspberries

A thin ray of sunlight fell across the page of Roy's book and he reached up to adjust the curtains for what had to have been the hundredth time in as many minutes. Closing the window had stopped the pages of his book from fluttering but the room was unbearably stuffy and nothing he did could shut out the sun completely. It was a beautiful day outside and nearly impossible to concentrate on the dusty tome in front of him. Looking at his notes, he let out a sigh. Hawkeye had taught him only a little over the course of his first week of study, preferring to leave Roy to decipher the yellowing pages of an old journal.

He stretched and stood. Riza would be making lunch soon and he wondered if she wanted help. It hardly seemed fair for her to cook every meal, and while it wasn't his place to insist the Master took a turn, he saw nothing wrong with offering his own assistance. As he closed the book, he heard a knock. "Come in," he said, turning his head as Riza opened the door.

"I was just wondering if you were hungry," she said, looking at the floor.

Roy stood. "I am. Would you like some help?"

"Thanks for offering, but I already made sandwiches," she said. "Would you like me to bring one up to you, or do you need a break from studying?"

"I've been starting at this for so long, I'm not entirely sure I can read it anymore," he said, stretching. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about the code in that book, would you?"

She shook her head. "I don't really know anything about alchemy. I've never wanted to."

"Why not?" He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. No one talked to her because they were scared of her father—why would she want to make things worse by making them scared of her?

"I'd rather not discuss that, if you don't mind." Riza shoved her hands into the pockets on her apron, clenching them as she did.

"I'm sorry," he said gently. He had hardly seen her the entire week and now he had upset her. Of course the Master's kid had to be a girl. He could have befriended another boy easily, but he had always been so nervous around girls. He wanted to talk to them and yet he had heard them whispering behind his back in Central, saying he was too rigid and questioning his heritage and his association with Christmas's girls. _Maybe, _he realized, _that's something I can talk to Riza about; it's something we have in common, at any rate._

Looking at her feet, she said, "You don't have to apologize." She turned to leave and Roy got to his feet.

"But I made you uncomfortable," he protested, following her out of the room. "And I didn't mean to. I wasn't thinking and I keep putting my foot in my mouth every time I try to talk to you. At least most of the time, I don't even have the nerve to say anything at all."

Riza stopped. "Do you mean that you've actually wanted to talk to me?"

"Yeah," he replied sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. "But apart from thanking you for cooking, I never knew what to say because I was scared of offending you."

Slowly, she turned to face him, though her eyes were still fixed on the floor. "That's kind of you," she said sadly. "No one's ever worried about that before."

"The way I see it, we're both stuck here, and it would be nice to have a friend, so if you want, we could—"

"You want to be my friend?" she interrupted, looking up at him for the first time.

"Of course I do." Roy scratched the back of his neck, hoping his face wasn't as red as it felt. "You could certainly use someone, and I'm not exactly popular either. I know how it feels to be treated differently because of my family."

She was smiling again, and her eyes were shining. "I've always wanted a friend, but I was starting to think no one would ever like me."

"Just because the people around here are idiots doesn't mean everyone is. You aren't going to be trapped here forever, you know. I'm sure once you leave, you'll find lots of friends."

"You haven't."

Roy winced; he knew Riza hadn't meant to be rude, that it made sense for the long years without practice speaking to others her age to have resulted in her terseness. Even so, the words stung. "Well, things are different for me. In Central, alchemists are respected. But it's a different story for quiet orphan boys who live above bars."

Riza shrugged. "I'm not the alchemist."

Unsure of what to say, Roy tugged at his collar, wondering if he should just give her a hug. From what he had seen of Master Hawkeye, he doubted anyone had touched Riza since her mother's death, and it was hard for him to imagine a worse fate. The girls he had known in Central—at school and at the bar—had generally been openly affectionate with their friends, and his aunt had always insisted on at least ruffling his hair, even when he was adamant that he was too old for hugs from the closest person to a mother he had ever known. Riza started to turn away but before she could leave, he took a deep breath and said, "Hey, Riza, wait a second."

She stopped and looked at him over her shoulder, confused. "I thought you wanted lunch."

"I do, but first, I want to ask if, um…if you want me to…What I mean to say is, you seem so lonely that I wondered if maybe you need a hug even more than you needed a friend." Embarrassed, he added, "But I understand if you don't want me to touch you."

Blushing, Riza turned toward him. "I—I'd like that, actually. Father doesn't even seem to know I'm here half the time, and there's no one else and so…." She stepped closer and Roy felt his own face flush as he put his arms around her. She returned the embrace and they stood stiffly in each other's arms for a few moments before Roy let go, feeling uncomfortable. "Thank you," Riza whispered, and when he looked down at her, she seemed far more relaxed than she had at any time in the past week.

"Any time," he replied nervously, wishing it hadn't been so awkward. After all, she was the first girl he had hugged who didn't see him as an adopted brother, and the last thing he wanted was chase her away.

"I should probably just bring your lunch up here so you can get back to studying. I don't want to waste any more of your time," Riza said, wringing her hands.

"You're not wasting my time. We're friends, remember?" He smiled and lifted a hand briefly before thinking better of it. Just because she said she wanted to be friends didn't mean he could just start patting her arm like she was part of his family. "Besides, I've gotten everything out of that damn book I can for today. All your father wanted me to decipher this week were the basic chemical compositions for the transmutations in the journal, and I finished that three days ago."

"Why didn't you tell him then?" To Roy's relief, she sounded impressed rather than irritated.

"He said not to bother him until tomorrow because he wanted to do something important this week. I didn't really mind, though. I've been trying to understand the rest but it's been harder. I got lucky because I studied chemicals a bit in school so I knew what I was looking for."

"If you're sure you don't want to study more, would you like to pick berries after lunch? They need to be picked before the birds get them all and we're out of meat, so I'd really like your help."

"I'll do my best, but I don't really know much about berries. You'll be able to tell if I didn't get poisonous ones by mistake after I've picked them, right?"

"It shouldn't been too hard since I'm fairly certain anyone who can decrypt Father's old journals can identify raspberries properly."

"Oh. Right. Let's get going, then," said Roy sheepishly, putting his hands in his pockets. He followed her to the kitchen.

As they ate, he realized how little he knew about the girl sitting across from him. He had thought asking her to be his friend would be the hardest part, but now that he faced the prospect of getting to know her, he realized he wasn't sure how to go about it. She was always so blunt and yet she didn't reveal anything about herself easily. He was nearly finished with his sandwich before he dared to speak. "What do you like to do in your spare time?"

"I read a lot," she said. "There isn't really much else for me to do, especially in the winter."

"Do you have a favorite book?"

Looking down at the table, she swallowed before saying, "There's an old book of plays that Mom used to read to me sometimes; it's special to me now that she's dead."

"Have you ever seen any of them performed?"

She shook her head. "There are shows in the village sometimes, but they're almost never from the book, and I couldn't afford to go to them anyway."

"Maybe you could come with me to Central someday, after we know each other better. One of the girls who used to work at the bar is an actress and she can usually find a cheap ticket or two for her friends. I'd pay for yours, of course," he added, noticing Riza's frown.

"I'd like that," she said, taking a sip of tea. "But I don't think Father would let me go with you. He'd be all alone if we both left, and even though he's always locked up in his study, he still cares about me. He'd worry too much if I were to go so far from home, even if I went with you."

"He can't keep you here forever, Riza. Once you're done with school, you can do whatever you want. Find a job, travel the world, leave this place and never return."

"How can you be so sure? You hardly know me."

"I'm your friend. It's my job to believe in you, isn't it?"

"I wouldn't know," Riza said wryly.

"You said you read. That's how it is in stories, so why can't it be that way in life, too?" Roy stood, picking up his plate and reaching for Riza's. "I'll wash these," he offered.

"Thanks, Mr. Mustang," she said, handing her plate and cup to him.

"How many times to I have to tell you? It's Roy."

"Alright then, Roy."

He washed the dishes quickly and dried them before realizing he had no idea where they went. He opened his mouth to ask but Riza was already next to him, opening the cupboard above the toaster. "Thanks," he said. "For lunch, too."

"It was nothing, really," she mumbled, taking the dishes from Roy and putting them away. "Father and I had to eat anyway, and it was only fair to make something for you too."

"Well, I appreciate it all the same." He put his hands in his pockets, smiling slightly.

"You should probably get your shoes before we go. I'll wait here for you," said Riza.

Roy blinked in surprise. "What? Oh. Berries. Gotcha. I'll hurry." Upstairs, he found his shoes and carried them down to the kitchen where he found Riza leaning against the back door, holding a shotgun and a basket. She waited for him to put his shoes on before shoving the basket into his arms.

"I'm glad you're coming with me. I had hoped you would sometime."

"But last time I offered you didn't want me to come," he said, following her outside.

"I was still nervous then. I didn't want to scare you off."

"From what you said, I thought it was the other way around."

"I'm the one carrying a gun, aren't I?" she joked. "And that's part of the trouble. I'm not some pretty girl going for a stroll through the woods and whistling cheerfully. I'm out there trying to survive, and I'll be shooting and gutting the cute woodland creatures I'm supposed to watch adoringly."

"Why the hell would that matter?"

"Because it's not normal. All the boys in town call me a freak, and not just because I'm an alchemist's daughter. I wanted to make sure you liked me before you saw the side of me that isn't the dutiful daughter, cooking and cleaning and making myself scarce."

Roy shrugged. "I want to be friends with you, Riza Hawkeye—blood-thirsty killer of innocent animals or not. Besides, I can tell you don't enjoy it."

"And what makes you say that?"

"You carry that gun like you're scared of it even though you obviously know how to handle it."

Riza opened the gate and gestured for Roy to step through. "You're right. I don't enjoy it. Honestly, I'd rather pick berries with you, but that won't be enough to get us through the winter. It's supposed to be a bad one this year, so I'll need to dry a lot of meat, especially with another mouth to feed."

Roy felt guilty, but he wasn't sure what to say as he watched her close the gate. The day was so warm he could hardly imagine the harsh winter she seemed so sure would come. Growing up in Central, he had only seen snow a few times, and it had always melted before the end of the day. "I can pay for food if we run out. I brought my savings with me. I don't have much, but it should be enough."

"That's very kind of you, but I'm more worried about being able to leave the house. If the snow blocks the doors, you won't be able to buy food, no matter how much money you have."

"Does that really happen here?"

"Sometimes," said Riza. "We're nearly in the North, and fairly high in the mountains as well. Last year was so mild that this year will probably be the worst we've had in a while. But don't worry. We'll make it through. We always do, somehow."

He followed her through the trees, wondering how she could walk so quietly. He could hardly take a step without making enough noise to send birds flying off in all directions. He supposed it was a good thing that Riza had assigned him the task of picking raspberries rather than hunting. After a short while, they came to a creek and crossed a makeshift bridge that he suspected Riza had made herself. He was about to ask when she stopped.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

She looked at him sharply, a finger over her mouth. With her other hand, she pointed toward the ground in front of her. It took a moment, but Roy realized there were large boot prints in the dirt. "So? I'm sure lots of people hunt in these woods," he whispered.

"Never this close to the house." She loaded the gun. "It looks like we're not getting any meat today."

"It's summer. Shouldn't there still be enough to go around?"

"That's not what I mean," Riza explained. "I don't know anything about this person, and I'm not going to leave you out here unarmed if there's someone bad out here."

"It's probably just someone trying to feed his family. Like you."

Riza started walking again, heading in a different direction than the prints. "I'd rather not risk it. You're my first friend ever and I won't lose you like that," she insisted. "And you're far too noisy to come with me while I hunt."

They continued in as close to silence as Roy could manage with his clumsy stride until they reached a small clearing filled with raspberry bushes. She paused at the edge, although Roy didn't notice until he ran into an arm she had held out to stop him. "What now?"

"Hold this." Riza thrust the gun into his hand and wiped her hands on her apron before scurrying up a tree. Roy looked away, wondering why she hadn't changed into pants before they left. Then again, she probably hadn't intended to climb any trees. Once she had perched on the lowest branch, she reached down and Roy passed the gun up to her. "I'm going to keep going up until I find a better place to hide. If anyone bothers you, I'll fire warning shots and hopefully they'll leave."

"Got it. So you just want me to fill the basket?"

"That's it." She pulled herself up to the next branch. "And Roy, go ahead and eat a few. I'm willing to bet you've never had a fresh-picked berry before."

"I can't say I have," he replied, heading toward the bushes. When he looked back to the tree, Riza had gone and he started picking. Some of the berries were still purple and he decided to leave them; they could come back for them later. He put most of them in the basket, but he couldn't resist sneaking a few for himself. Even though Riza had told him to, he felt a bit guilty for it, but they were better than any he could remember having eaten. After he had filled the basket, he turned around to look at the tree again, wondering where Riza was hidden. He didn't want to call up to her and so he carried the basket to the base of the tree and held it over his head, hoping she would see.

"You were faster than I expected," she said and he moved the basket to see her crouching on the branch directly above him. "And you didn't need to hold that up. I saw you walk over." She lowered the gun down to him and he set the basket aside to take it.

"Right," he said, grinning as she let herself drop to the ground. "Just in case you had to shoot me."

Riza took the gun again. "Or save you. Let's head back and hope that whoever was out here already did." She reached into the basket and took a raspberry before heading into the woods. Roy followed her, looking through the trees and half expecting a strange man to leap out at them.

They reached the creek once more, with nothing larger than a rabbit having crossed their path—although Roy had been very startled when Riza shot it. He had thought her plan involved silence, but she must have felt safer after the time they had spent in the clearing. Or perhaps it had simply been a reflex because she was still on edge. Unsure and unwilling to speak and perhaps startle her into shooting him, Roy had followed her until she stopped at the edge of the creek. They stood there for several minutes, watching the water until she turned around slowly. "What's wrong?"

She stared at him for a moment before replying, "The bridge is gone."


	4. Chapter 4: The Culprit

Chapter 4: The Culprit

Roy looked at the water. It was shallow enough that they could walk through the water, and the current didn't seem very strong. Still, he doubted Riza was worried about crossing so much as the stranger in the woods. "Why would someone destroy the bridge?"

"I don't know. I can think of several reasons, but I'm not sure which is right." She sighed and clutched her gun tighter. "I don't like it, though. They didn't seem to care about it before we crossed."

Roy looked around nervously. "Are you saying that this person wants to hurt us?"

"It's possible." Frowning, Riza crouched to examine the new footprints. "Or maybe they just didn't notice it until we came across making enough noise to wake the dead," she added, looking pointedly up at Roy. "I had thought this was public land, but there might be some trapper who thinks it's his and doesn't want other people hunting here."

"And if that's the case, we should head back," said Roy, setting the basket down to remove his shoes.

"I suppose you're right." Riza's eyes narrowed as she examined the prints. "Still, I want to know who's out there."

Without looking back, she dashed off into the trees, and Roy had no choice but to follow her. Despite the noble thoughts parading through his mind, he knew fully well that he had chosen this course of action for his own safety rather than to protect his new friend. If he had been thinking rationally, after all, he would have left the berries behind. Carrying the basket without spilling it and keeping track of a small girl who was used to concealing herself was no easy task, and as the branches scraped his skin, he couldn't help but wonder just what he had gotten himself into.

She was gone. It took him several minutes to come to this conclusion, but as he slowed to catch his breath, he realized he hadn't seen Riza in at least a quarter mile. He had thought he had, but once he had stopped, he saw that what had appeared to be blonde hair was only a spider web and he sank against a tree, looking for signs that someone else had passed this way. He could barely even make out his own footprints, and as heavy as his stride had been, he knew Riza's would be impossible to detect. She might have passed this way, or she might have made a sharp turn early on. Or worse, someone might have pulled her into a tree, covering her mouth with one hand and wrestling her gun away with the other. He knew had to find her, had to get them both home somehow. He had never been so certain of anything and yet, he had no idea how he was going to manage unless—"Riza!" he shouted. "Riza, where are you?"

Once, he remembered, the Madam had taken him to a carnival, and she had told him if he got lost to stay where he was and ask an adult for help, but as useless as that advice seemed in the present, he sank to the ground all the same, listening for footsteps and unsure of whether he wanted to hear them or not. Riza would almost certainly appear in silence, after all, her fury at his stupidity displayed only in her eyes because she, for one, would be sensible enough to keep her mouth shut. She was four years younger than him and had seen almost nothing of the world, even compared to him, and yet she understood it far better.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into the basket on his lap.

"Sorry for what?" said a deep voice behind him.

He turned and looked up to see a furious Riza being dragged by a large man in a dirty blue uniform with a familiar rifle slung over his shoulder. His eyes were cold and disdainful, his face lined beneath matted brown hair. Scrambling to his feet, Roy cleared his throat. "Let go of her!" he said in a manner far less intimidating than he had intended.

"Oh, so she's your responsibility? No wonder she got away." The man let go of Riza's collar and shoved her toward Roy, who reached out to stop her from stumbling, spilling the berries in the process.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, putting his hands on her shoulders protectively.

Riza shook her head and pushed him away, turning to face the man who had destroyed her bridge. "I never did anything wrong. It was just some sticks and rope." She spat at his feet.

"This place isn't safe for little girls to run around by themselves," the man said. "And it's not your private hunting ground either."

"No one owns this land," Riza insisted, furiously. "And the only reason it's not safe is because of stupid soldiers like you."

The soldier laughed. "Land always belongs to somebody, and this land belongs to Amestris, which means it's my responsibility to keep brats like you from poaching on it."

"I wasn't poaching," she snapped. "I was just trying to keep my family alive." She stepped toward the man, but Roy grabbed her arm.

"We should go."

"No," said Riza. "Soldiers are bullies; Father says so. But I've dealt with bullies before. They're all cowards, picking on a little girl like me because everyone their own age is bigger and stronger than I am. Everyone their age knows they'll never go hungry."

Roy looked down at the spilled berries; the ones around Riza's feet had burst, staining the leaves and her boots. "A soldier can't be a coward. Soldiers are supposed to protect people." He looked up at the man. "A real soldier would never let the people of his country starve." He stepped past Riza to look up at the strange man. "Please, Sir. Let us go. We're just kids."

Reluctantly, the man handed the gun to Roy. "Only because the Brigadier General would have my head," he muttered. "But if I catch you again, I'll have to arrest you, no matter what Grumman might say, you hear me?"

"Yes, sir. We're leaving now." Roy turned to Riza who had picked up the basket and was still glaring at the soldier. Not trusting her to follow him, he reached toward her. She turned to look at him, her gaze softening into confusion as she looked from his face to his outstretched hand. He was about to withdraw it when he felt her fingers against his.

"Let's go home."

"Yeah."

They left the clearing and Riza's hand fell to her side. Roy stopped and looked at her over his shoulder. "Are you alright?" 

"Of course I'm not," she said bitterly. "I don't know what I'm going to do. How are we going to survive the winter?"

"I don't know," Roy admitted, turning to face her. "I suppose I could write a letter to my aunt explaining the situation, and there was at least another basketful of unripe berries. If your jam's as good as the rest of your cooking, you should be able to make loads of money from that."

Riza's face flushed. "Thank you. For helping me back there, too. It was stupid of you to shout, but I'm glad you did. I don't know what would have happened to me if you hadn't."

"I have a pretty good idea," said Roy cheerfully. "You'd have kicked him, gotten your gun back, and run like hell."

Smiling slightly, Riza looked up at him. "Maybe. But then again," she added as her face fell, "he might have dragged me off to East City to stand trial. Or just shot me and left me out here."

"I'm glad he didn't." Roy adjusted his grip on the gun and held it out to Riza. "Maybe you should take this back, just in case."

She grabbed it and clutched it to her chest, offering him the basket in exchange. "You don't really think he followed us, do you?"

"If you didn't hear him, I doubt it," said Roy, looking over his shoulder nervously. "He watched us walk away, so he can't exactly ambush us, can he?"

Riza shook her head, but she tightened her grip on the gun all the same. When they finally reached the stream, she looked sadly at the spot where her bridge had been. "I suppose if I rebuilt it, he'd just come back and tear it down."

"That may be, but if you want to give it a shot, I'll help you," Roy offered.

Riza smiled nervously. "Thanks." Carefully, she set the gun on the ground and removed her shoes. Roy watched her wade across and hoped the summer air would make the cold water more bearable. When Riza reached the other side, she set her shoes on the ground and turned to look at Roy. "Are you coming?"

He nodded, a grin spreading across his face as he judged the distance across. The bridge certainly was necessary for hauling game across the creek, but the other side was just close enough for a single person to jump across. It would be faster than taking his shoes off, and with the evening breeze, he had no desire to get wet. He knew the real reason the idea appealed to him was a desire to impress Riza, and so he smirked before taking a running leap across the water. As he left the shore, he realized that he had misjudged the distance. Clutching the basket in one hand, he reached out with the other and landed in the slick mud of the other bank. The basket fell to the ground as he tumbled backward. Riza reached out to grab his hand but it was too late; he landed with a splash.

As he sat up, he saw the expression on her face change for concern to amusement, and for the first time, he heard her laugh. It was a quick, nervous giggle that seemed to surprise her as much as it did him. Immediately, she regained her composure, although her shoulders weren't as tense as they had been in the past. She placed the gun beside her shoes and reached out tentatively to help Roy up. Wanting to make her laugh again, he yanked on her arm until she toppled forward. Instead of falling into the water as he had hoped she would, she landed in his lap. Embarrassed, she scrambled backward and turned away to hide her embarrassment, although Roy could still see the redness creeping up her neck.

"I'm so sorry, Riza," he said, reaching out to touch her shoulder. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just wanted to make you laugh again."

"'S fine," she replied softly, getting to her feet.

Roy stood as well, moving to stand beside her. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah." She cleared her throat and met his eyes. "You just caught me off guard. Anyway, we should get home so you can put on dry clothes."

"Next time I'll come up with a better way to make you fall for me," he teased as she pulled her shoes on again.

Riza rolled her eyes and thrust a hand toward him, pulling it back before it reached his chest.

Indignant, Roy pouted at her. "Hey, you weren't planning on pushing me in again, were you?"

"You would have deserved it," she retorted, picking up the gun.

Raising his hands, he took a step back, careful not to fall again. "Easy now. You could hurt someone with that."

"I would never shoot you," she promised. "Imagine how hard it would be to make another friend after I killed the only one I ever had."

Roy laughed and bent down to take the basket. "Excellent point."

They walked back side by side, and as they made their way through the trees, Roy didn't mind the way the evening breeze cut through his wet clothing. He was determined to make Riza laugh again, and as they approached the yard, he decided to tell her about time when he was her age and had accidentally poured from the wrong bottle and spat whiskey across the table. As he opened his mouth, he noticed someone standing in the shadows beside the house. "Why would he come here?"

"Maybe because he lives here," Riza whispered. "That's my father, not the soldier."

Master Hawkeye made his way across the yard as Riza opened the gate, fingers trembling. "Do you want me to do that?" Roy offered.

She shook her head and pushed the gate open, eyes firmly on the ground. Roy considered reaching out to steady her, but he knew that would only make things worse.

"There you are," Hawkeye said. "I was wondering where you'd gone."

"I'm sorry, Sir," Roy said. "I shouldn't have gone, but I thought you didn't want to see me until tomorrow."

"Quiet, boy. This isn't about you." He turned to his daughter. "I told you to make dinner by six. I didn't want to be disturbed after that."

"It can't be six yet," Riza mumbled, kicking at a small rock with her toe.

"It will be soon, and you hardly have time to make something before then. And on top of that, you came back empty-handed."

"That's my fault," said Roy, stepping in front of his friend. "I dropped the basket and all the berries fell out. But I can make it up to you. I'll help Riza with dinner and we'll get it to you as fast as we can."

"There's no need for you to do that," Hawkeye insisted. "You're here to study, not to cook for me."

"I've studied what you gave me, Sir. And I want to be able to make up for losing the berries," Roy added sheepishly.

"Very well. You know where to find me." He turned and went into the house. Roy started to follow him but paused when he saw Riza hadn't moved.

"We should get going," he urged her.

"I know," she said sadly, following him toward the house. "I'm sorry I dragged you into this."

"Hey, it's fine. What else are friends for?" Roy said, nudging her gently with his elbow.

She smiled at him as they went inside, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. As they cooked, she spoke only to issue instructions and Roy followed them in silence, unsure of what to say. At last, they were finished and he set the food on a tray. Riza lifted it carefully and glanced up at the clock above the table. There were still three minutes left and Roy followed her out of the kitchen and up the stairs. "Good luck," he whispered as they reached the landing. She nodded and turned up the stairs to the attic as Roy headed to his room to find dry clothes.

He changed quickly and sat on the edge of his bed, waiting for Riza to return. When she stepped into the doorway, he gestured for her to come inside. "How was it?"

She shrugged. "Fine. I made it just in time, I guess." Nervously, she made her way across the room to stand next to Roy, who patted the bed beside him. She sat gingerly and folded her hands in her lap. "I guess I should make something for us now," she said.

"Would you like help?"

She shook her head. "No, but I would like some company." She leapt up as though the covers were on fire and left the room with Roy trailing behind her. In the kitchen, she put a kettle on first. "I'm sorry I was so useless today."

"You weren't useless. Reckless, maybe, but you're anything but useless," Roy assured her, taking a seat at the table.

She looked at him warily. "You're not just lying because you're my friend, are you?"

"I have no reason to lie to a friend," he assured her. She didn't respond and he felt guilty; it was bad enough watching her do all the work herself, but he was doing a lousy job keeping her company on top of it. However, she didn't seem to mind the silence. Every now and again, she would look over at him and he noticed that her shoulders weren't as tense as they had been, and when she finally brought the food to the table, she was smiling again.


	5. Chapter 5: A Rainy Day

Chapter 5: A Rainy Day

The room grew dark gradually, and it wasn't until Roy heard the first raindrops against the window that he realized the sun had gone. He looked away from the newly transmuted figure on his desk to see Riza running across the yard. She had told him her plans to rebuild the bridge, and he been envious as he watched her leave after breakfast. With a smile, he moved the figure and wiped the chalk away carefully. He consulted his notes and began to draw another. It was nearly finished when he heard footsteps, and his hand slipped as he turned to see Riza flop onto his bed. "Feeling a bit under the weather?" he teased and she groaned into his pillow.

In the two weeks following their encounter with the soldier, this was the first she had dared venture into the woods. It seemed she spent most of her time checking to see if Roy was busy, which he usually was. The stack of books Master Hawkeye had told him to study had tripled in the past few days and he had still only managed to complete this one, vaguely horse-shaped transmutation. As difficult as it was for him to concentrate with Riza watching him, he was always glad to have her company, and he held out the horse for her to inspect.

The bed creaked as Riza sat up and she looked at the object curiously. "What's that supposed to be?"

"It's a horse. Can't you tell?" he said, somewhat indignant.

"Looks more like a cow to me," she muttered and turned to glare out the window.

Unable to think of a good retort, and unwilling to admit that Riza was right, Roy set it aside. "Are you planning on spending the afternoon sulking or do you want to do something?"

"I'm not sulking," she protested, forcing a smile. "See?"

Roy laughed. Getting to his feet, he stretched and moved to sit beside her. "I'm feeling a bit burned out on alchemy for now," he said. "You want to play a game?"

"What kind of game?" she asked, sitting up straighter.

He thought for a moment, wondering if there was even so much of a deck of cards in the house. "How about chess? Do you know how to play?" If nothing else, he supposed he could draw a board and transmute the pieces.

"Of course I do. My mother taught me," she informed him. "But I haven't played in years; my father was never interested."

"So you haven't played since she died?"

"I have. I used to play with Father Eckhart when I went to the church," she explained.

Roy looked at her in surprise. "You went to church? I never took you for the religious type."

"My mother liked to sing," Riza explained. "And after she died, I was so lonely that I'd sneak into the church to hear the choir practicing on my way home from school because it reminded me of her." She looked down at her hands and kicked her heels against the bedframe. "Sometimes, we didn't have much food so I'd go there. One winter, it snowed so hard that I couldn't get home, so I had to sleep in the choir loft for a week."

"That sounds awful," Roy said, wringing his hands and wondering if patting her shoulder would help.

"It wasn't so bad. The Father is a very kind man and a good cook. He's the one who taught me, you know."

Roy grinned at her. "Remind me to thank him sometime." Riza returned his smile with one of her own, but said nothing and Roy watched her for a few moments before adding, "But you said that was years ago. What happened?"

She shrugged. "I guess I just didn't have time. By the time I was eight, our savings ran out. Father started taking on apprentices and I had to keep everyone fed and the house clean."

"I'm sorry." He put an arm around her shoulders, and though she seemed startled by the contact, she relaxed and leaned against him.

"It's in the past now." She squirmed away from Roy and stood. "I'll get the chessboard."

As she left the room, Roy went to the window. The rain was coming down in sheets now, and he couldn't see anything past the drops on the window. Frowning, he examined his reflection; there was a smudge of chalk on his nose and his hair stuck up in several places. He brushed away the chalk but didn't bother fixing his hair. The only person he would see was Riza, after all, and he expected she would muss it herself if he beat her.

"Look who's sulking now," said Riza pointedly as she entered the room.

"I was just watching the rain," he protested, turning to scowl at her.

She laid the board on his bed. "Of course you were," she replied with a smile as she arranged the pieces.

"Shouldn't you put that on a table?"

"I like your room better than the kitchen, and there's no room on the desk." She placed the last pawn on its square and smiled at him.

As Roy sat carefully on the other side of the board, he couldn't help but wonder at the change in his friend. It was hard to reconcile the girl lounging on his bed as comfortably as if it were her own with the somber and withdrawn person who had met him on the platform. She really must have been lonely if it had taken little more than a day in the woods to earn this much of her trust. Or perhaps it was her youth; he often forgot that she was four years younger than he was.

"You're just copying me, aren't you?" he said after several turns.

"I am not," she protested, moving her bishop.

"Yes you are. You just did that because you knew I was catching on."

"No. I did it so you won't move your knight." She frowned at the board. "Besides, if I copied you the whole time, you'd win because you went first."

"That's a good point." Roy moved one of his own bishops, and Riza captured it. As they continued to play, he watched her more attentively than he did the board. While she decided which piece to move, she played absentmindedly with the hem of her skirt, her face expressionless. Resolving never to play poker with her, he returned his attention to the game to find that she had taken another of his pawns. He captured the knight only to watch her quickly remove his rook. "You're better than I expected."

"What? Girls can't be good at chess?" she retorted, looking up from the board to glare at him.

He shook his head. "I just thought it would be easier to beat someone who hasn't played in years."

"You still think you're going to win, don't you?"

After several turns, Roy picked up his queen to take her rook, noticing her knight just in time to move it elsewhere. Riza studied the board carefully before sliding her own queen to a square in line with Roy's. He moved it to safety and Riza looked at him curiously. "Somewhere along the way, you got ahold of an extra pawn."

"That was ages ago," she said, the corners of her lips twitching.

Roy grinned at her. "Doesn't matter. It'll be even soon enough."

She looked up in surprise as he took her knight. "Are you sure you wanted to do that?"

"Funny, I never thought you'd try to trick me like this," he said. "Seems like something a sore loser would do."

Riza shrugged. "It's your loss," she said, moving her rook. "Check."

Far too late, he saw the trap she had lured him into and stared at the board in frustration. "That's really not fair," he complained, reluctantly using his queen to protect the doomed king.

"Checkmate," Riza announced cheerfully as she took the queen and leaned back against the headboard, a smile spreading across her face. "Never leave your king without a means of escape," she suggested.

"You did."

"Who's the sore loser now?" she teased, leaning forward again to reset the board. "I didn't leave my rook trapped behind a knight. It's impossible to win if you have useless pieces, you know." She straightened a pawn and then looked up at Roy.

"Do you want to play again?" he asked, placing the pieces he had taken from her on his side of the board.

She moved to sit on her legs, tugging at her skirt until it covered her knees. "That depends. Can you handle losing again?"

"I don't care if I lose," he said, scowling at her.

"It seems like you do. Are you sure it's not because I'm a girl?" she asked sadly, twirling a pawn between two fingers.

His expression softened. "I already told you it wasn't. Why would it matter that you're a girl anyway?"

"It does to some boys," she explained with a shrug. "They act like it makes them weak or stupid."

"Well, they're certainly stupid if they think they're better just because they're boys." He reached across the board to nudge her shoulder playfully. "I'm just used to losing to people who are older than me, not thirteen-year-olds who haven't played in a long time."

The wind picked up shortly after they began their second game. As the rain blew against the house, Roy found it increasingly difficult to concentrate. Despite his determination to win, it seemed as though Riza could read his thoughts and she moved her pieces accordingly, taking his before moving to safety. "That priest must be really good," he said as she cornered her king once again.

Riza shook her head. "He was alright, but my mother was brilliant." She looked down, a pained expression on her face. "When she got sick, it was just about the only thing she could do without leaving her bed, so I'd set up the board on her lap whenever she was awake."

Somewhat surprised by her openness, Roy reached out and took her hand. "I'm sorry," he said, squeezing it gently. Having lost his own parents before he could remember, he couldn't imagine what Riza's loss must have felt like—what it must feel like even now.

"She would have loved you," said Riza. Her voice cracked as though she was holding back tears, but her eyes were dry. "Sorry," she added, wiping her face with her free hand as if out of habit. "I didn't mean to act like this. I just miss her."

"You don't have to apologize." Still holding her hand, he scooted around the board to sit beside her.

Her face flushed slightly and she tugged her hand away from his. "I'm just being silly, and you don't need to see that."

"It's not silly to miss someone you love," he told her. He reached up to touch her hair but pulled his hand back, deciding it was too intimate a gesture. She was closing herself off once again and he didn't want to push her farther away.

"It is when you nearly start crying in front of someone else. She's been gone for over half of my life. I need to grow up." Her voice was steadier now and she leaned ever so slightly away from Roy. He understood, in a way. Her loneliness had spilled her heartache to him and her wariness had brought her tongue to heel once more. Returning to his side of the board, he wondered if she would ever truly trust him.

_That's not right_, he reminded himself. After all, she laughed and smiled and lounged on his bed as comfortably as if it were her own. _But one short month isn't about to undo years of silence._ As he made the first move of the next game, he hoped he hadn't pushed her too far. "Hey, Riza, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

She took her turn instantly, but her eyes were locked on the board. For several minutes, they moved the pieces, but their thoughts were on a different game. When she found the right words, Riza looked up at Roy again. "I remember you saying that you wanted to be my friend because we were trapped in this house together, and I want you to answer truthfully: is that all I am to you—someone to keep you company until you can leave this place and forget about me?"

"I'll never forget you, Riza," he promised, wondering how long that question had been troubling her. "I'd like to believe that, no matter how we had met, we would have become friends one way or another. Locking us up together made it happen faster, that's all."

Relief washed across her face, and her lips twitched slightly, but she did not smile. "You will leave, though."

The bluntness of her statement made Roy flinch, but he could hardly blame her. It had only been a month, but from her perspective, it had been the only month that she'd had a friend. "You could come with me," he offered, the words slipping out before he could think. "Well, I mean, you could come to visit, and I'd visit you."

A disbelieving smile spread across her face. "Really?"

"Of course. Do you really think I'd abandon you here?" he said, raising his eyebrows.

"I know you said you were lonely too, but I had thought that if you went back as a big shot alchemist, you'd make loads of friends."

"It might happen," he said, grinning. "But you'll still be my best friend."

Riza's smile shrank slightly. "What makes you so sure of that?"

"Because you liked me before I was a big shot alchemist," he said, reaching over to ruffle her hair affectionately.

She giggled slightly, looking surprised by her own laughter. As Roy's hand returned to his side, she fixed her hair the best she could without a mirror. "I'm honored," she teased. Despite her lighthearted tone, Roy could tell she truly meant it, and he grinned at her, not caring that she had put him in checkmate for the third time.


	6. Chapter 6: Building Bridges

Chapter 6: Building Bridges

With the midmorning sun just barely above the trees and an axe in his hand, Roy followed Riza into the woods. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" he asked hesitantly. He had avoided the question all morning, but as they walked under the trees, he couldn't keep it in any longer.

"Maybe it's not, but if you want to survive the winter, you'll just have to go along with it," she replied, not even bothering to look at him over her shoulder. "With any luck, that soldier will be off in Ishval by now."

Roy hoped she was right. As they made their way through the trees, he kept his eyes on the ground, looking for footprints, but saw only Riza's. The previous day's rainstorm had left the dirt soft and her footprints were deeper than they had been the day he lost track of her. Still, he knew, the rain might have washed away tracks from the previous day and he wished Riza had brought her gun. She had told him to carry the axe, hoping that it would scare the man away should he return, but Roy had every intention of returning it to her if they ran into trouble.

"You're unusually quiet today," Riza said, looking at him over her shoulder without breaking her stride.

He ran a hand over his hair, feeling proud. "Well, I have been trying to keep my eyes on the ground so I don't step on as many twigs."

"I didn't mean that. You're making as much noise as ever, but without saying a word. Is something wrong?"

"Of course not. It was just part of trying to be quiet." He smiled sheepishly, though he knew she wouldn't see it. "But if I'm as loud as you say, I might as well talk."

She shrugged slightly. "Only if you have something to say."

Frowning slightly, he looked down at her feet, trying to follow her steps as he thought about what he could ask her. They had known each other only a short time, and yet he had nearly run out of questions to ask her. The only ones that remained were ones he was too scared to ask, since she still seemed so reserved. He was always willing to answer her questions, but they were few and far between. Perhaps she felt as uncomfortable prying as he did, and he wondered how much it would hurt their budding friendship if he were to take the first step. Riza had revealed so much about her mother the day before that he wondered if she was truly starting to open up to him, and there was only one way to find out. "Hey, Riza?"

"Yeah?"

"You said your mother was a singer." He watched her nervously, waiting for her shoulders to tense as he considered abandoning his original line of questioning for a less personal one.

"What of it?" she asked after several moments of silence, her posture still as relaxed as it had been before he had spoken.

"I just wondered if you were too," he said softly, hoping she wouldn't hear.

She shrugged slightly. "I don't know. I've never had an audience before."

"Would you like to?" he asked.

She didn't speak for several minutes, and Roy was worried he had offended her until he heard the first few notes. The tune was unfamiliar, but from the words, he guessed it was a hymn she had learned from the choir—or perhaps from her mother. Her voice was shaky at first, but by the end, her nerves had subsided somewhat and she turned to face him, blushing slightly.

He stopped abruptly to avoid stepping on her feet. "You have a lovely voice," he told her gently. "You could probably sing in Central if you wanted to."

She shook her head. "Don't try and flatter me, Roy. Even if I could get more than a squeak out in front of all those strangers, there are plenty of girls who are more talented than me."

"I'd pay to hear you at least," Roy said, reaching out to pat her arm reassuringly.

"Careful, I might just hold you to that," she said with a grin. Placing the basket she had brought on the ground, she walked toward the creek. It was slightly wider here than at the site of the original bridge, and the water looked deeper.

"Are you sure this is the best place?" he asked, setting the axe beside the basket before joining her on the bank.

She nodded. "It's more secluded. And," she added, looking up at him, "it's a better place to do this." Before he could ask what she meant, her hand was on his chest; the force of her shove sent him reeling backward, and he landed with a splash. The water was deep enough to break his fall, but he was still less than pleased with this turn of events. As he stood, he saw Riza doubled over with laughter.

"It's not that funny," Roy protested, wading through the waist-deep water until he could pull himself back onto the shore. "I think my shoes are ruined."

"They'll dry," she assured him breathlessly. Still giggling, she stood up straighter. "I had to get you back for pulling me in."

He kicked the shoes off in a sunny patch of grass. "That was weeks ago," he protested, picking her up. She struggled in his arms but by the time she freed herself, she was already over the water and the only thing she could do was grab onto Roy's shirt and pull him in with her. "Now we're even," he said, letting the current carry him away as Riza tried to splash him.

Laughing, Roy ducked under the water and swam upstream until he could see Riza through the murky water. He grabbed her legs and pulled her under; she kicked him away and propelled herself toward the bank. As he surfaced, Roy noticed that her back was to him, her shoulders hunched. "Did I hurt you?"

"My dress," she muttered.

He couldn't see any rips, but he supposed the front could have been torn or stained. "Did I ruin it?" he asked, scrambling out of the water to sit beside her.

"No," she muttered.

"What's wrong, then?"

"You didn't see anything, did you?" she asked nervously.

"What kind of person do you think I am?" he said lightly. "I just wanted to startle you." Putting an arm around her shoulders, he gave her a reassuring squeeze.

She sank against him and swept her wet bangs away from her eye. "We should get to work soon."

"We have all day. Let's dry off first." He let go of Riza and scooted away, giving himself room to lie back on the warm grass. After a few moments, Riza spread her skirt carefully and lay back as well. Resting her head on her arms, she looked up at the cloudless sky with the ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. She crossed her ankles and turned her head slightly to look at Roy.

"You aren't going to fall asleep, are you?" she teased.

As tempted as he was to take a nap, Roy had a feeling that if he closed his eyes, Riza might try to surprise him again. He shook his head—half in response to Riza and half to fight off the sleepiness that had crept over him from the warmth of the sun and the steady buzzing of beetles in the surrounding trees.

"Good. You're hard to wake." She rested her head back on her arms once more and closed her eyes.

"At least I'm trying to stay awake," Roy said.

With her eyes still shut, she smiled. "The sun's just bright," she explained with a yawn.

"You sure?" he reached over to ruffle her damp hair and she laughed lightly.

She nodded and sat, combing through her hair with her fingers. "I'm going to chop wood. You can stay here if you like." Wringing water from her skirt, she looked around until she spotted the axe. She moved toward it but Roy was quicker.

"I can get the wood," he offered.

She scowled at him. "I'm the one who knows what to do."

Reluctantly, he handed the axe to Riza. She was right, of course. "If only I knew more about alchemy. I could make a bridge in minutes."

"Where's the fun in that?" Shouldering the axe, she stepped into her shoes and headed toward a fallen log with Roy at her heels.

Hesitant though he was to question her, the idea of making a decent bridge with nothing but an axe seemed preposterous. "Hey, Riza, don't you think we should have brought a saw?"

She shook her head. "I'm just going to chop these branches off." Looking over her shoulder, she raised an eyebrow at him. "What? Did you think I was going to try to hack planks out of it?"

Laughing, he moved to steady the tree as she began her work. "I had hoped you weren't planning on that." After a few moments of examining the trunk, he frowned. "How are we going to move it?"

"There's rope in the basket." Riza shoved a branch aside and moved to the next one. "We can tie it to the roots."

He looked across the creek and noticed that the trees were closer to the water there. If they put the roots on that side, it would almost look like it had fallen that way. As he examined the stumps left behind, he realized that the shoddy axe work was meant to disguise human involvement. _Damn, this girl thinks of everything._ He wondered if this had something to do with her skill at chess and watched admiringly as she wiped her brow. When she met his eyes, Roy felt his face grow warm and he looked away.

"I think I should leave the rest. Is something wrong?" she added, frowning as she noticed his flushed cheeks.

"I'm just impressed," he told her, shaking his head. "You should be the one studying alchemy."

Her eyes narrowed and she looked away. "I've already told you, I'm not interested."

"But you still haven't said why not," he pressed.

"Don't ask me again," she said sharply. "I'll tell you when I'm ready."

Surprised, Roy stepped back. "I had thought, once we were closer, you might—"

"We're still not close enough." She kicked at a branch she hadn't cut all the way through, but there was no malice in the action and her voice seemed sad.

"You've been in my bed," he teased, hoping at least to make her smile.

Her lips twitched slightly. "Better not let Father hear about that." She lifted the axe slightly, a serious expression in her eyes. The two friends looked at each other for a few moments, their faces grave until Roy started laughing. Once he lost his composure, Riza let herself go as well and her shoulders shook as she sank to the ground. She put the axe down and Roy sat beside her, rubbing his neck.

"You don't think he'd really…?" He made a cutting gesture and Riza laughed even harder.

"I certainly wouldn't put it past him," she said, nudging him with her elbow. "At the very least, it would be the end of your alchemy lessons and I'd lose my best friend."

"I'd be losing mine too," he said, knocking his knee against hers. "And you're worth more to me than alchemy."

A disbelieving smile crossed her face as she looked up at him. "Really?"

"Of course you are," he said. "You know, for someone so smart, you can be such an idiot."

"Careful now." She reached toward the axe jokingly, her smile wider than ever. As he laughed, she moved closer to him, leaning against his shoulder. Roy was surprised by the gesture but pleased all the same. It was strange how much her trust meant to him, even after so short a time.

As he put an arm around her, his heart sank. Master Hawkeye had assured him that he could learn the basics of alchemy in one year if he applied himself, and he wondered if he would ever get to see Riza again afterward. As easy as it was to ignore the difference in age now, he knew it would matter when he left. She had several years left of school and it would be selfish to ask her to uproot herself to finish her education in Central, and she probably wouldn't want to see him again—let alone follow him across the country—once she learned of his dream of becoming a soldier. She would cut him out of her life before he even got a chance to tell her how desperately he wanted to fix whatever it is in the system that could make a man think a uniform gave him permission to bully a teenage girl.

"To protect those who can't protect themselves," he muttered, tightening his grip on Riza.

"Huh?" She stared at him, confused.

"Why I came here; why I'm studying alchemy," he explained. "I asked why you didn't want to, so I thought it was only fair to tell you why I did."

She rolled her eyes, but her lips curled into a smile. "I didn't tell you, though. And I didn't ask either," she said gently.

"Sorry," he said, feeling sheepish. "I just wanted to let you know that I trusted you." _With some of the truth, at least._

"Thanks." Her smile widened and she reached out to take his free hand in both of hers. "I trust you, too, Roy."

He smiled and left it at that, pulling her even closer. It was foolish to feel that he had to protect her. After all, if anyone in Amestris was capable of taking care of herself, it was Riza. "Let's get to work," he said, and she nodded, releasing his hand as she stood and strode toward the basket. As she picked up the coil of rope, Roy pushed himself up to sit on the tree. He stretched his legs and watched as Riza wrapped one end of the rope just above the roots. "Do you think the two of us are strong enough to pull this?"

She looked up from tying a knot. "If not, we can always use a pulley system." She tugged on the rope to see if it was secure enough, and satisfied, she waded into the creek, letting the rope slip through her fingers.

"Where should I stand?" Roy asked, following her into the water.

"In front of me." She pulled herself onto the bank and wrapped a section of rope around her hands.

Still uncertain that the two of them could move such a large tree by themselves, Roy copied her and dug his heels into the dirt. "Now?"

"Now," she agreed and they began to pull. After several minutes, Roy's hands were burning and the tree remained exactly where it had started. He glanced back to see Riza straining, a determined glint in her eyes. Unwilling to give up first, he continued his futile attempt to move the log. With a grunt, he yanked the rope as hard as he could, but the effort sent him toppling backward, knocking into Riza as he fell. He heard a soft moan of pain and felt a knee dig into his lower back.

"You okay?" he groaned, rolling onto his stomach and propping himself up on one elbow.

"I think so," she said breathlessly. "You?"

"I'm fine." He rubbed his back where Riza's knee had been, wincing slightly. "So, what were your plans for a pulley system?"

She pushed herself up to a sitting position. "I could climb a tree with the basket. If you pass rocks up to me, I can put them in and tie the rope around it."

"That'll take forever," he complained. His hands were already burned from the rope and he couldn't see any suitable rocks.

"Then let's hear your ideas, Alchemist." With a grunt, she stood and stumbled. Roy tried to catch her but only managed to get to his knees by the time she regained her balance. "Must've twisted my ankle," she muttered, leaning against a tree.

Roy stood and walked to her side. "We should go home," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Yeah." She flashed him a quick smile and limped toward the creek.

"Are you sure you can make it?" he asked.

She nodded. "As long as I keep walking, it'll be fine." Slowly, she stepped into the water and waded across while Roy watched, a phantom ache spreading up his own leg.

"I can carry you, if you want," he said, following her to the other bank.

"Don't try to be noble," she scolded. "If I stop, it will be that much harder once I start walking again."

"But you won't have to," he insisted. It was his fault she had gotten hurt, after all, and he felt terribly guilty. "You can prop it up once we get home and I'll make you an icepack." He expected her to dismiss the idea, to insist that she was feeling better already, but instead she stopped.

"Fine," she agreed, sitting on the log she had intended to use as a bridge as Roy gathered the supplies they had brought. He moved the sandwiches Riza had packed to one side of the basket and carefully rested the head of the axe beside them.

He untied the rope and coiled it, then set it on top before thrusting the basket into Riza's arms. "Here." She set it in her lap and grabbed his hand, turning it so the palm faced up.

"You're bleeding."

He looked down in surprise. "I suppose I am," he said. He looked back at Riza, with her swollen ankle and disheveled hair, and felt a pang of guilt. "I don't want to ruin your dress. One second."

"I don't mind," she said as he tugged his shirt over his head and wrapped it around his hand.

"Well, it's not like you can just afford to buy another one," he said, "and blood isn't easy to get out of clothes."

With a quiet laugh, she shook her head. "That's not what I was talking about."

Looking down at his bare chest, Roy felt his face grow hot but he was certain that couldn't be what she had meant, so he rolled his eyes and lifted her gently, taking care not to bump her injured ankle against the tree.

By the time they reached the house, his arms were burning. "Can you stand?" he asked.

"I think so."

He put her down and she grimaced as her bad foot hit the ground. "Sorry," Roy said, but she shook her head and leaned against the back door.

Shifting her weight onto her uninjured leg, Riza opened the door and hopped into the kitchen, shoving the basket onto the counter as soon as she was inside. She limped to the table and her gait became more relaxed as she reached it. "Thanks for carrying me," she said quietly.

"No problem." As he opened the icebox, he heard a chair scrape across the floor. "Are you sure you're comfortable there?" he asked, watching her over his shoulder.

She rubbed her swollen ankle. "I'm fine, Roy."

"If you say so," he said with a frown. He opened the cupboard beside the door and removed an icepack from beside the first aid kit. As he chipped ice into it, he felt Riza's eyes on his back and he realized his shirt was still wrapped around his hand. He closed the icepack and removed the first aid kit from the cupboard. Tucking it under his arm, he carried the pack to Riza.

"Thank you." She pressed it against her ankle and looked up at him. "How are you holding up?"

"Let's see," he said. He unwrapped his hand and tossed the soiled shirt aside. "It doesn't look too bad."

Riza grabbed his hand and inspected it, frowning at the dried blood and dirt. She released it a few moments later. "You're right. But you should bandage it all the same."

With a nod, Roy turned and went to the sink. He washed his hands thoroughly, causing the wound to reopen. He set the first aid kit on the counter and opened it, searching for a bandage with his good hand. When he found one, he wound it over his injury and held it in place with his teeth to secure it. "Is there anything else I can do?"

Riza stood shakily. "Help me upstairs. I want to take a bath."

"I don't think that would be appropriate," he said, impressed with his own ability to keep a straight face.

She glared at him. "You're lucky I'm injured, or I'd kick your ass right now."

"I don't doubt it." Approaching her cautiously, he crouched and put her arm around his shoulders. "Come on," he said as he pulled her to her feet. She elbowed him sharply. "I guess I deserved that."

"It was the least I could do," she said sweetly, smiling at him as he helped her out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry about the long wait between chapters. My beta and I have both been busy with school, and now that it's the break, I hope I'll be able to post it soon.


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